The Big Bad Wolf
by Effective Immediately
Summary: One should really consider locking the door before turning another into a werewolf. That and teaching them proper werewolf etiquette. But mostly just locking the door.


Where had Aela and Skjor gone?

She was so confused, and angry, but most of all scared. Everything in front of her was blurring yet coming into focus at the same time. Like she was being roughly woken up from a long dream, only to land into another one on the way and get terribly lost.

There were shouts all around her and Sildruin fought to block them as she barreled on ahead, at a speed she felt might match a horses. Which shouldn't be possible. She wasn't fast like a horse - she was fast – certainly, but this was unbelievable. It felt like she might even run out from under her body, with how quick the floor whipped by her.

Her gait slowed as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The scents were familiar and recognition hit her just as hard and fast as a book one of her teachers so loved to toss her way as a child.

Though the buildings held little familiarity, since Sildruin could hardly afford to own one so stately, the unforgettable smell of the tavern cooking and tanning hides and burning wood were almost unique in how they mingled and left their trails in the cold night air.

This was Whiterun.

Yes. That was right, she was still taking board here. She was...she was an initiate...

And...and...they had...

She was...

Her hard breaths left her in white puffs as she continued to look around, why was she even running? Why did she feel like running, like fighting? Or like she was as strong as a pillar and yet so frail at the same time. Everything felt different. Saturated.

And Aela and Skjor weren't around. Why weren't they here?

There were footsteps and more shouts now catching up with her and the whisper of something cutting through the air. Sildruin let out a yelp, feeling it part her muscle in her right thigh.

Looking down she barely had time to see her body as the need to strike out caught up with the need to run and she was lunging at her attackers, letting the stress she felt unleash upon them instead. The guard screamed as he was lifted and tossed aside, only to be dragged back again and tossed once more.

Grabbing his leg again, she yanked the dazed man toward her like the ragdoll he might as well have been. Her other hand curled viciously into his chest where the nails scratched into the armor hidden underneath.

She shook him.

Hard.

But the outmatched fight was cut short quite literally as another guard came in and landed a stroke across her back. Snarling, she rolled away and got to her feet, targeting him next.

Her body landing on him wiped him of all breath as his chest was gouged at. Her hand could have been a Skyforge sword for how easily it was parting him with his armor.

Why!

Why had he struck her!

What had she done!

A punch to his helmeted head quieted him again. But it wasn't enough, he had to feel more pain. Grabbing his head with one hand, she held him in place, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and tearing left and right as he groaned and finally screamed.

The coppery taste flooded her mouth but she felt no desire to spit it out. Sated in temper for now, she was off again, headed for the same smell she'd gotten used to while being here. It comforted her, because right now she felt utterly abandoned.

The door proved hard to open and with a howl she pressed against it. They'd barred it.

They'd locked her out.

Light flickered through the pane of the windows and Sildruin stilled for a moment, watching it before lifting her bloodied body off the ground as she began to scale the building. Even with the injuries, it took but a few seconds to make the climb up to the second story. Grabbing hold of the windows wooden bars, she pulled it open with some difficulty from the angle.

With a final hoist, she was level with it and squeezed inside, grunting at the tight fit.

She landed on the wooden floor gracelessly, the warm air only serving to make the room seem stuffy and smaller than it was. Blinking her eyes, Sildruin took a proper look at it, allowing her body to loosen with the heat and uncurl.

"By the Eight Divines..."

It was whispered, but it might as well have been shouted for how loud and clear she heard it uttered. It was a man in the corner of the room, at the edge of the bed and now pressing up into the wall, stricken as he looked upon her.

The door was shut; he was nowhere near it but he still looked as if he wanted to bolt. There was another scent in the air now and it agitated her. She felt angry all over again, wronged, and with that her next course of action came easily.

She didn't bother running at him, he had nowhere to go; she was blocking his exit. The pain in her leg and back seemed to fade into the background as she closed in on him, hearing him start to beg. Half on the bed, she pressed close to him, inhaling deeply the scent that came strictly from him; baring her teeth in tightly coiled rage at it.

But there was another scent, one she couldn't ignore either.

She knew him.

Didn't she?

His hair was light, like the color of wheat...and curly. Soft and wispy. His shirt smelled of strong spices. Like Honningbrew Mead.

Images filled Sildruin's mind at that, catching that same scent whenever the bard here would pass by, playing his songs and always managing to take her breath away with him. Never quite flirting with her, though she'd sorely wanted him to. He'd always had his interest stolen by other women.

And the one time she'd managed to get him alone had been interrupted by her new job. Contracts that needed a lowly whelp to help finish them.

She let out a low moan, clawed hands releasing the likely painful grip on Mikael's chest. His eyes were shut tight, and he was breathing so fast now. She pressed her face against it, inhaling deeply and feeling her body respond to the small comfort. She could feel his heart racing underneath her and practically sat her entire frame on him in an effort to get closer.

Blood was seeping into his clothes and the sheets, but neither seemed to care in such a position. He was praying again in a breathy voice and to her, it could have come from a divines lips. How exquisite he always sounded to her ears, and finally - finally - being so close to him had quickly gone to her head.

The prayer got louder as she ran her tongue along Mikael's neck, longing to kiss him properly instead but no longer having the means to do so. A long crimson trail was left in its wake, and feeling a strange satisfaction at that, she tasted his jawline next. His words seemed to shudder with him as one eye slit open. Both arms lay flat by his side, though he made no move to struggle. That other scent still lingered in the air but it was ignored every time she inhaled.

Her teeth ran gently over his collarbone, scraping the skin so carefully that it left small goosebumps behind. Now he was pleading with her, questioning himself frantically as to what was happening. What was happening?

He was pressed further into the wall as she continued to kiss and nip at him, feeling as a familar and much welcomed heat pool in her stomach and spread out through her body like fireworks. Her teeth hooked onto a button and pulled at it, popping the string easily and digging in further down as he jumped slightly and spoke. What wasn't happening?

"No, it's not."

That voice.

Sildruin turned at it, feeling her hackles rise at the interruption only to see Aela in the doorway, bow drawn as she looked both outside and in. There was a sharp pain of betrayal at the sight but Aela made no further move to strike, and understanding the unspoken message, the Bosmer Whelp crawled off the Bard.

"There's a good 'doggy'. I'll take care of this from here, Mikael, just forget what you've seen and I'll forget to let everyone know just how far your 'popularity' extends."

He nodded frantically, and was out the door before Sildruin could even think to stop him. Aela made to shut and lock the door after him and turned to her now, putting her bow away. She shook her head and scratched it, grinning a bit. "You know, you gave us a lot more trouble than even Farkas when he first turned. At least he didn't try to molest the barmaids. That's certainly a new one to set the bar."

Pulling a seat out, she straddled it and stared over Sildruin, a look similar to pride in her eyes, perhaps admiring her handiwork? "Well, you look no worse for wear, those wounds won't stay for too long either, even without changing back, it's part of the gift. Our gift." She paused again, as Sildruin failed to meet her eyes. "Do you like it?"

Did she?

"Don't worry," Aela said, not waiting for an answer that couldn't be given right then. "It gets better, you're just...you're just opening your eyes for that first time, but soon? Soon, we'll run together. And I can't wait."


End file.
